Daring to ask
by nipponophile
Summary: The Doctor discovers there's more than one way to communicate with his best friend. Part of the 'Unspoken' series


_Disclaimer: What would have appeared in the TV series if I owned the characters._

**Daring to Ask**

There was nothing the Doctor liked quite as much as talking. Not only was it a great way to find out, oh, all sorts of things, it was fantastic for making new friends, not to mention show off his cleverness. And when he was bored, well, talking with the _right_ person just seemed to make time melt away.

But something he had discovered recently was that there were some things that were so important and profound and _sacred_ that they were beyond even the realm of words.

He entered this realm every night as he padded silently into Donna's room and she accepted him into her arms. Every night, feeling her fingers smooth over his eyebrows and cheeks, the caress of her breath as she calmed yet another nightmare, her kisses dropping softly in his hair.

No words were needed to enter this world. Rather, they had given each other visual assent; here, it was their eyes that were the most articulate.

It was a place of such extraordinary peace and calm that he found himself craving it, and the nights gradually became longer and longer because he wanted to spend longer and longer there with her. There was just something so _magical_ about it.

And the way they touched now…

He was fairly certain she had no idea exactly how much this new touching they had fallen so comfortably into affected him.

The other night, when she had kissed his shoulder, the feel of her lips on his skin had rendered him completely breathless, every nerve ending taut in exquisite torture.

His back to her front, she hadn't see his eyes close and roll back…_oh my lord_…but he had been powerless to suppress a moan of sheer ecstasy in response to her ministrations.

Now the lay facing each other, hands grasped loosely, her breathing even as she slumbered. So imprinted on his memory was she that even in the darkness, he could see everything so clearly - her intelligent blue eyes, fiery glorious, _glorious_ hair, perfect nose, sensuous lips.

Her lips….he stared at them, transfixed. These days, it was not just hand-holding and hugs they exchanged freely but kisses too. A kiss on the temple in appreciation or relief, on the cheek in affection or greeting, on the hand in chivalry or…..

But he knew that the kiss he desired most, that he had been longing for ever since Midnight, was very, very different. The way he wanted to kiss her now, there would be no room for blurred boundaries or interpretation or going back.

And as close as they had become, as intimate as they now were, it still required her permission. He needed to bring words back into their nocturnal nirvana of silent togetherness

Yet it seemed too harsh and violent to awaken her by speaking. So instead he stretched out and ran his toe every so slowly and lightly down the front of her foot. Almost as if he hadn't expected her to react so readily, his breath hitched as he felt the tiny hairs on her skin stand up, her skin humming awake.

Not a second later, her eyes were staring intently into his, the corners of her mouth turning up and an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"What is it, Spaceman?" she whispered, her index finger stroking the back of his hand.

He felt his ears get hotter and was grateful for the darkness hiding the wave of shyness that was washing over him.

"Donna, I, um.." he began, averting his eyes for a second, then met her gaze again "..I was wondering, um, …."

"C'mon then, out with it" she prompted him.

He drew in a short breath to calm himself, his eyes flicking for a second back to her lips, and he felt a bravery, a determination surge in him.

"Donna, I would very much like to kiss you right now" he paused momentarily as his eyes opened wider in nervous anticipation "and I was wondering if that would be okay."

"You mean, _kiss_ kiss?" she asked, angling her head in indication of his ever-so-slightly-trembling lips.

"Yes" he breathed

She said nothing, her mouth pursing in a silent _"Oh"_.

He waited.

Agonising seconds later, she finally spoke.

"If I say yes, what does that mean, exactly? What do _we_ mean?"

He could see that actually broaching what they'd been dancing around was making her anxious, as if she feared that clarity risked losing the fragile and precious thing growing between them.

He considered her question carefully. It was critical for, him, too that they _knew_ and knew why.

"It means that you are deep in my hearts and I love it that you are, and I just wanted to share with you how wonderful that feels".

He inched his face closer to hers as he spoke, until he could feel her breath tickling his mouth.

Her heart was beating rapidly now, and she nervously chewed her bottom lip, the unintended consequence of its swollen redness enticing him even more.

She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Achingly slowly, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers.

They moved then to a place outside of time and space, where there was only the indescribable feeling of mouths moving against each other, the scent of indelible connection and wordlessly shared promises of always.

And his tears, that after 900 long years, he was finally, _finally_ home.


End file.
